


Miss Missing You

by SherlockWolf



Series: Mister Brightside meets Miss Missing You [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sequel, agnst, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve regrets allowing YouTube to autoplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read "The Stars Are Beautiful, Aren't They?" first, but you might wanna read it anyway...

    In retrospect, Steve never should’ve let YouTube auto-play. He thought it would be harmless to just sit back and listen to whatever pop culture crossed his path. It was supposed to be an easy evening. What he hadn’t expected was to relate so heavily to a song that he ended up in tears.

_I know I’m the one you want to forget_

_Baby you were my picket fence_

_I miss missing you_

_Summer skin_

_The person that you’d take the bullet for is behind the trigger_

_I will sing to you everyday_

_If it will take the pain away_

As he listened to it, all he could think about was Bucky. How, back in their Brooklyn apartment in the thirties, Steve had decided that he’d never want anything more in his life. He’d been content to live with Bucky like that for the rest of their lives; ‘til the end of the line.

    But now that life and those dreams were long dead. They died with Bucky when he fell from the train.

    Steve felt so guilty at those thoughts that he ended up crying _harder._ It was a relief that he was alone in his room.

    It’s not that Bucky wasn’t trying. Every morning—once he had his coffee—he’d make sure to smile at Steve. It didn’t matter how weak it was, it was something. Every evening he would make sure to say goodnight to Steve before they went into their separate bedrooms. He spent a lot of time with Clint and Natasha, learning about pop culture and becoming comfortable with them. Natasha shared history with him which helped, and Clint was as much of a humor-loving prankster as Bucky had been back in the thirties. It was good for him, and little by little he was becoming more like the sassy, take-no-shit but give-all-the-shit James Buchanan Barnes that Steve loved so dearly (there had been one occasion where Bucky had told him off for jumping out of a plane without a parachute with the ferocity he used to have when scolding Steve for getting into fights he couldn’t win). He was steadily losing the Winter Soldier brainwashing, which was vital.

    But it still felt like Bucky was missing. Even though he wasn’t. He was incredibly quiet, and there were times when Steve would glance up from whatever he was doing—reading, sketching, watching something—to find Bucky watching him with those blank gray eyes that reminded him of the way a hawk might look at a mouse.

    Steve always avoided thinking about Bucky’s differences as best he could, but in this moment of vulnerability he couldn’t fight off those thoughts. He missed the teasing light that used to fill Bucky’s eyes no matter what situation they were in. He missed Bucky’s laugh— _God, he hadn’t heard that laugh in seventy-five years!_

    Against his will a small whimper escaped his lips. Once it had, he couldn’t stop himself from curling into a ball on the desk chair and hiding his face between his knees. No one was there, but…Steve didn’t want the world to see his pain.

    He’d always been that way. He was tough and wanted people to believe it. The only people who knew otherwise were his mom and Bucky.

    Whenever he’d get down on himself, Bucky would wrap him in his arms—because back then he’d been able to envelope Steve’s tiny body in his warmth—and hold onto him until he calmed down. It worked without fail no matter how old they got.

    Steve had always thought he’d have Bucky to hold onto. To protect him (even though he would adamantly deny to anyone who asked that he needed someone to protect him from anything).

    Then he lost him. Twice. Once to the army, and once to the mountains of Russia. That second time he’d thought would be the end.

    When he drove the Skull’s jet into the ice, he’d expected it to have been. He’d closed his eyes and waited to be roused by his ma and Buck, smiling down at him (his ma), calling him a punk (Bucky), and welcoming him to Heaven.

    But then he’d woken up in New York City where cars looked like lions or frogs and people carried wireless telephones with cameras that could send letters in seconds.

    The worst part was that Steve was entirely alone for the first few months. Reflecting on it now, Steve trembled at the feeling of loneliness that washed through him.

    Only a year or so ago, all he had was Howard’s son and Peg, who was too old to dance with him like he’d promised her.

    But then Natasha started opening up with him. She trusted him, which Clint had said was “probably the biggest deal to ever deal”. And Steve found that he had someone to rely on in the future. Finally.

    Then he’d met Sam, and things began to look up even more.

    Until he fought the Winter Soldier.

    Everything went to Hell when that happened.

    Bucky wasn’t supposed to be here. Steve had come to peace with that after _aliens_ attacked New York. The future was Bucky-less, and while Steve missed him so much that a few times he’d had to sit out on missions because his heart ached so much, it was okay. Bucky didn’t belong here, and if he was being honest, neither did Steve.

    But when that mask fell off…Steve felt a dumbed down version of the stab of the horror he’d felt at seeing Bucky’s face for the first time since he’d lost him just from the memory.

    Even though it’d been decades, Steve remembered putting the jet in the ice as if it’d only happened a few days before he’d woken in the future. And that meant that he remembered losing Bucky as if it were only a few days before that. It was too real and too close, and seeing Bucky on the streets that day had nearly paralyzed Steve. If Nat hadn’t been there to shake him out of it, the Winter Soldier probably would’ve finished his mission and Steve wouldn’t be here crying over his friend.

    It’s after Steve had finished that thought that someone cleared their throat in the doorway to his room behind him. Steve spun around to find the shadow of Bucky in the cracked doorway, the kitchen light across the living room the only thing illuminating his figure. He was wearing sweatpants with no shirt, just like Steve. Some things never change.

    “Steve? You okay?” He whispered, knowing that he didn’t have to raise his voice for Steve to hear him. It also implied that he knew Steve wouldn’t appreciate any real noise at the moment. Bucky really _was_ getting better.

    “Sorry, Buck. You can go back to sleep, I’m just…thinkin’.” Steve answered quietly, trying and failing miserably to hide the fact that he was crying since his voice cracked.

“About what?” Bucky asked, moving into the room to sit on the end of Steve’s bed which was the closest he could be to where Steve was curled up at his desk. He folded his legs underneath him and his eyes danced over Steve’s face which was lit by the glow of the computer screen.

“You.” Steve admitted. Bucky always brought the truth out of him; there was no lying to Bucky. His answer reminded him of a time when Bucky had admitted the same thing to him while they were watching the stars. That had ended up being the night they confessed their love to one another. It felt like yesterday, but it was oh so far away.

    “Is it about how cute I am?” Bucky teased, and Steve rolled his eyes while sniffling, the memory lying heavy in his mind.

“Whatever you say, Buck.”

“Really though. What’s buggin’ you?” Bucky’s old accent slipped in a little bit, and it made Steve’s heart ache more, if that were even possible.

Steve sighed, looking back at the computer screen. “Listen.” He said, then pressed the replay button on the song that had long since ended.

    Bucky listened in silence while Steve hid his face again and tried to calm himself down on the basis that Bucky was near him, breathing and alive. It didn’t work nearly as well has Bucky’s hugs, but it was something.

    When the song ended, Bucky didn’t say anything. Well, he did actually. Just one whispered word. _“Fuck.”_

Steve couldn’t help but crack a small smile at Bucky’s reaction. “Yeah.”

    Bucky took his eyes from the screen to stare at Steve, who was looking at him through the gap between his elbow and thigh.

“I…feel like I…should do something…to help you…feel better.” He said choppily, to which Steve unfolded himself from the chair and sat on the bed on Bucky’s left, since that’s where there was space for him.

“Whenever I was sad you used to hold me.” He told him, but then added, “If you don’t want to though don’t worry. You just being here helps immensely.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands to try and settle his breathing. To his surprise, Bucky shifted so that he could wrap his metal arm around Steve’s back. The other hand wrapped around his front and then Bucky pulled Steve toward him until the brunette could rest his cheek against Steve’s shoulder.

“This okay?” He asked, and Steve nodded. The angle forced him to rest his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head, but if Bucky minded he didn’t say so. Steve’s own hands held onto Bucky’s flesh arm and he closed his eyes.

    “Tell me more about what you were thinking. That song couldn’t have torn you up this bad unless you let your thoughts snowball the way you always do.”

Damn, Bucky knows him too well. Not that he’s gonna complain about that, _ever_.

    “I…was thinking how…different you are. Like...there’s no way to make this sound less horrible.” Steve didn’t want to continue. He didn’t want to Bucky feel shitty because _he really was getting better._

“It’s okay. It is horrible. I’m not the same and I know it. You know it, too, course you do. There’s no way you wouldn’t have noticed.” Bucky defended Steve’s guilt, which only made him feel worse.

“But it’s not fair to you.” Steve murmured, sniffling again to fight off tears.

“Fuck, Steve. Life’s not fair. Cry me a river.” Bucky sighed, and Steve could _hear_ him roll his eyes so he huffed out a tiny laugh in response.

    It was weird. Bucky was usually so quiet. But, now that he was talking, Steve realized that Bucky seemed to remember significantly more than he let on. Maybe that was why he hardly spoke.

“Besides, I’m getting better, right? At least I’m able to sass your punk-ass. Fake it ‘til you make it, like Clint keeps tellin’ me.”

This time Steve actually laughed. “Clint has the worst sayings.”

“Yeah, he does.”

    They were quiet for a few minutes before Bucky untangled himself from Steve and went over to the computer. He typed something into the search bar and then selected a new YouTube video.

A song Steve had heard way too many times in his recent life started playing and he found himself rolling his eyes at Bucky again.

“Honestly, Buck. Ke$ha?” He teased.

“Clint may have weird sayings but his music taste is beautiful and uplifting.” Bucky deadpanned.

“For God’s sake, Buck.” Steve mock-whined, flopping on his back on the bed with his legs dangling off. Bucky joined him with their arms brushing.

    Bucky shushed him, and they were quiet until the song ended.

Then Bucky said, “There’s something I never told you.”

“Hmm?” Steve asked. He was suddenly incredibly tired and had closed his eyes to revel in the feeling of having Bucky with him.

“Your love is my drug.” Bucky whispered, and Steve _groaned_ at the ridiculousness of what Bucky had just said.

“How dare you make fun of my feelings.” Bucky said incredulously.

“Buck, please.”

“Really though, Steve. If there’s one thing I remember the most, it’s you. Not my ma, pa, or sister. Not any of the women I dated. You. And that’s brought me to one conclusion, which is that I’m in love with you. Always have been, always will be.”

Steve turned his head to the side to scour Bucky’s face with his eyes. Bucky was looking back at him with the tiniest smirk that anyone but Steve would’ve missed.

“Did you just…?” Steve asked, and Bucky winked at him.

    Did Bucky really remember that night, too? And if he did, that meant that he knew Steve loved him back. Which was obvious, considering that Steve hadn’t bothered to hide how much affection he had for Bucky since he’d been freed from Hydra.

“So you remember…?” Steve wanted to know if his hunch was true.

“Are you asking if I remember my last night on base camp where I got unnecessarily jealous of Peggy Carter, told you you’re more beautiful than the stars, and made out with you all while drunk off my ass? Because yes, of course I remember that. Punk.”

The slight smirk grew into a real one, but Steve’s eyes started watering again. Bucky remembered that they’d admitted their feelings, and he was _okay with it._

“I’ve missed you so much.” Steve whispered. He tried to avoid his voice cracking, but to no avail. Bucky sat up then, got up and turned off the computer before closing the door and crawling along one side of the bed. Steve had to get out of the way as Bucky snuggled himself under the covers and peered up at Steve.

“Get your ass in bed, punk. It’s late.” He mumbled. Steve did as he was told and laid down on his side so that he could face Bucky. When he did, Bucky scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist to pull him as close as possible. Then he tucked his head under Steve’s chin.

“This is much better than those cots.” He whispered, and Steve couldn’t help but agree.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Steve.”

    They laid like that for a while, neither falling asleep, before Steve felt the need to ask,

“Is this the most you’ve talked since you came back?”

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment and Steve wondered if he’d misjudged the puffs of breath on his neck. But then he said,

“I think so. You were hurting, though, so it was necessary.”

“You say that like your voice is a bad thing.” Steve mumbled. He instantly regretted saying it, but it was too late, the words were already in the air.

“I wasn’t allowed to talk much. I’m not used to being able to say whatever I want yet, I guess.” Bucky’s arm tightened around Steve’s waist a little as he talked, and Steve knew he’d accidently brought about memories that hurt Bucky.

“Sorry.” He grunted. He felt Bucky shrug.

“It’s okay. If it makes you feel any better, you’re the only one I’ve really talked to _at all._ It pisses off my therapist, but she deserves it.”

    Ah, yes. The infamous therapy sessions. The team had required Steve to sign Bucky up for them once he came home since they hadn’t trusted him easily. Steve had begrudgingly done so. He knew that Bucky wasn’t going to cooperate any more than he had when S.H.I.E.L.D. had made him take therapy when he first got out of the ice. But, if it meant that the Avengers would come to trust Bucky, it was worth the time.

    “Thanks for doing those.”

“You better thank the therapist instead. She’s the one who has to put up with me.” Bucky said with another shrug.

“She and I are in the same boat, then.” Steve mumbled.

    Bucky laughed at that. _Laughed._  It was short and small, just a little _haha._ But it had tears springing to Steve’s eyes again. He wormed his arm over Bucky’s shoulder and wiggled down so that their foreheads were pressed together. Bucky’s pupils dilated at Steve’s proximity, but he didn’t move. Instead, he watched Steve with that predatory gaze that made Steve wonder if he’d done something wrong.

    He was just about to ask when Bucky said, “We used to do this a lot as kids.”

“Hmm?” Steve hummed questioningly. He had no idea what Bucky was referring to.

“What we’re doing right now. The staring thing. Why did we stop?”

“’Cause we got older, Buck. Men weren’t allowed to touch each other in anyway as adults back then.”

    That was one thing he loved about the future. People could love whoever they were in love with. They didn’t have to hide from the world. It had always been a no-brainer to Steve, but in the thirties it was illegal for people of the same sex or gender to be in a relationship. He’d hated having to hide that part of his life.

    “I remember that now.” Bucky mumbled.

His eyes narrowed. “Is that why we never kissed until that night?”

“Yeah. I was afraid to tell you and you were afraid to tell me. It was dangerous.” Steve shrugged it off, but Bucky started to look angry.

“That’s dumb.”

Steve laughed light-heartedly. “It was, but it’s over now.”

“Good.”

    The tension leaked out of Bucky’s face, replaced by a tiny soft smile.

“I can’t get that song out of my head.” He admitted.

Steve swallowed harshly. “Me neither.”

“ _’Cause baby you were my picket fence._ ” Bucky sang quietly, “ _I miss missing you now and then._ ”

Steve closed his eyes and tried to fight off tears _again_ while Bucky sang _._ If there was one guarantee, it was that he was going to wake up with a severe crying headache.

“ _The person that you’d take the bullet for is behind the trigger._ ”

“Steve?”

    Steve blinked his eyes open at the sound of his name that had interrupted the flow of Bucky’s singing. _Another thing I haven’t heard in seven decades._

“I’m…you…” Bucky grunted at his own difficulty at speaking and closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them to try again.

“I remember, something about…dreams. From back then. I used to dream about us, living like we did in Brooklyn—but forever. I wanted you forever, Steve. I was so afraid that one of the girls I set you up with would actually like you. Worse, that you’d like her, too. I didn’t want to lose you. To anyone or anything.

“And then, in the military, the only thing that got me through was thinking about you. How you were safe at home. I thought that the war couldn’t touch you. And then it turned you into a pornographic posterboy. But because of that, you saved my life. Twice. Once when you rescued the one-o-seven, and then now. You’re still saving me.

“We’ve been through Hell, Steve, but you know what?”

    Steve, whose face was still red from Bucky’s porn comment, hummed in response to Bucky’s question.

“In the end, I still got my picket fence.”


End file.
